It’s difficult to focus on anything these days for long.
They say He neither slumbers nor sleeps, our guardian of Israel. Well, Hashem: neither do I these days.
I’ve found refuge in (mostly) light-hearted books and in music. When I sing or listen to a song, I’m not focusing on anything but the music and its lyrics. For the span of maybe three minutes, I am filled with melody and harmony. I raise my singing voice to match the songs and—
—I hear a cycling sound from outside and I worry it’s a siren and I turn off the music and listen. Very carefully. But it’s just a motorcycle, revving up on the street.
I go to the kitchen. I evaluate my fridge’s contents. Plenty of food. Lots of leftovers: Indian, Chinese, standard Ashkenazi brisket delivered from a Friday service. All the makings to cook my own fresh dinner as well, if I ever had the energy. Frozen meats. So many dry goods in the cupboard, waiting for disaster so they can be of full use.
I’ve only gone outside a handful of times the last three weeks. All the Israelis I know are staying inside whenever possible. Being outside and getting caught by a siren is dire. And that’s without even factoring in the possible terrorist infiltrations, coming into our streets and homes.
If I’d been in one of those attacked kibbutzim on 7 October, I would’ve had no defense. I just would’ve died. Possibly horribly. And I can hear them in my head, every day, those poor people who were tortured and murdered by our enemy’s sadistic hands. Tortured for hours, sometimes. All their life, they believed they’d be protected by their government and the IDF. And the IDF did not show up in time. Where was the IDF that day?
Where was our almighty God that morning? Was our guardian waiting? Planning? Filled with sadness, as I am now?
So we stay inside, doors locked. When there’s risk, Israelis are told to turn off all the lights and pretend no one is home. I’m not sure that works. Maybe it will delay them, and that’s what’s needed. Maybe the IDF will come to rescue us this time.
I stay inside and I think about the mezuzah, nailed as commanded to that doorpost I rarely cross now. Inevitably, I think of my bat mitzvah. My portion was Parshat Vaet’chanan, where these words inside the mezuzah are written in D’varim (Deuteronomy): You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. This is the way I love Israel, too. It is the same thing to me.
I cannot make myself care less. It’s embedded within my entire heart and soul.
I read a lot of news. All day long. I take a five-minute break from work and I scan my phone, check where the sirens were since I last looked, make sure nothing major happened.
Sometimes I think it’s too much news. But when I stop, inevitably I feel worse and must look again. I do not deal well with the unknown. I would much rather know.
But when I know, I cannot sleep. And when I don’t know, I cannot sleep. And when I sleep, 90 minutes here, three hours there, my dreams fill me with unexpressed confusion and fright. There is no good solution to any of this.
Thank goodness for the dogs. They are sweet, they are supremely innocent, they are filled with joy. And when we snuggle up on the bed, so happy, I wonder if, in an attack, the terrorists would shoot them too.
And I tell myself none of these violent scenarios are likely. But they’re not as unlikely as we all believed.
Where is our guardian?
When I hear people talk about human rights violations, about war crimes, I hear no one speaking of the 7000+ war crimes that are the missiles and rockets sent from Gaza, targeting civilians. Each one a separate crime by law. I hear nothing of the way Hamas uses human shields to maximize Palestinian deaths, hiding underneath hospitals. War crimes only seem relevant when they can point fingers at Israel, who has been meticulous with following international law to the letter. Because they’re actually held accountable, unlike Hamas and the PIJ, who flagrantly use war crimes as a war strategy.
When the hospital was hit by a PIJ rocket, and people realized it wasn’t Israel, there was utter silence. From people so quick to riot when they blamed Israel for it, there was zero condemnation of the PIJ who actually fired the missile, or for Hamas who knowingly lied about it.
And that underlined more than anything that these people rioting against Israel and shouting for Palestinian rights who stay silent when Hamas and the PIJ harm Palestinians (which they do *much* more than Israel ever has) don’t really care about preserving Palestinian lives. They want a reason to scream at Israel.
Well, you scream your damn head off, world. Try to move us. Try it.
I don’t know how to live in this state of war and vigilance. Maybe I’m doing it correctly after all. Or maybe I’m failing, and that is why I feel this way. Maybe I’ll never sleep well again. Where is the instruction manual? The Tanakh? So many psalms about enemies. So much love of God, interwoven with the wars. We’ve been doing this a very long time, right here in this land.
There is nothing else but love that could make us fight this hard, for this long, under such extreme circumstances across history. With all our might. And today, that might is not a small amount.
Is this, after all, the way we are guarded? Through our commandments and obligations to each other? Are we the hand of God, shielding ourselves? Reaching out with terrible fury to root out enemies? Then what about our enemies? And what about our betrayers, whom we always trusted?
What parts of God are they? And are they sleeping?
